poem: twisted

published also in one hand clapping magazine, in altered form if you put my face into wet cementit would not leavedefining marks. my shoes squeak lolita lolita lolita after i visit my father;walking across town makes towninto thin manga lines,the people slipping into hotpencil shapes and his thumbprintskeeping close watchon my ankles, on the young…

poem: i have no reasons, i have no reason

girls in books do not have interior lives; they are emotion, they are not Thought. And here I am, sitting alone in the dark terrified to go out terrified to stay in— if I pulled myself apart you would find text, an introversion good enough for Tolstoy, but not good enough for—who else? Who else—is…

poem: confessions of a teenage elitist

i like being misunderstood. but i am not that complicated: i think am better than you because i think about grand things in the shower and you only stare and smile, your eyes drained out, your mind running clear and fast and going nowhere. i have various complexes: childhood trauma, childhood poverty, childhood isolation. i…

poem: cabin out in Nowhere

wouldn't it be nice if someone was secretly in love with me--- loner, an under-used word in the poet's dictionary, but it tattoos nicely into her softer eyelids fraying, against her cheeks. against her intellect. wouldn't it be nice if someone found my answering all the univere's questions-- adorable--and not awkward-- the shifting impatient eyes…